I’ve needed comfort food of late, so I’ve turned to two staples – mashed potatoes and Bewitched.

As my bowl of mashed potatoes and I settled in to spend time with my old friend, Samantha Stephens, I said to myself, “Self, skip ahead to the second season of Bewitched so you can avoid the black and white episodes.”

Before anyone has a virtual breakdown and accuses me of being too uncouth to appreciate black and white media, you can simmer down. I have written before about my appreciation for shows like Leave It to Beaver as well as early seasons of The Andy Griffith Show. What’s more, I love old Hollywood aka classic cinema. In fact, you could describe me as a devotee of black and white movies.

But I didn’t grow up watching black and white episodes of Bewitched. When I think of the show, I see Endora, Samantha’s mom (played to perfection by Agnes Moorehead), resplendent in a green and purple robe as she glares at “Durwood” with eyes made up with bright blue eye shadow. Black and white does not convey Endora’s essence as good as color does.

Anyway, after I watched three episodes of season two on the Roku channel, I consulted our friends at Wikipedia because I had a question about the show. There, I read the following words, which rocked my world: “Later, seasons 1–2 were colorized and made available for syndication.”

As Sam would say, “Oh, my stars!”

As you might have gathered from the aforementioned paragraph, neither season one nor two were filmed in color. But there’s more. My memory of growing up watching only episodes in color was accurate. Once again, I’ll let our friends at Wikipedia explain: “The cable television channel WTBS carried seasons 3–8 throughout the 1980s and 1990s…”

At some point, though, I became aware of the existence of the black and white episodes. Indeed, I remember watching part of the first episode, in which Sam and Darrin wed, probably on TV Land. I didn’t finish watching. If I turned the channel to Bewitched and saw that a black and white episode was airing, I continued flipping the remote.

So, even though I’m a traditionalist when it comes to film and TV and even though I don’t really understand when this colorization took place, I am thrilled to learn that it happened. I don’t care if you accuse of me of being uncouth.

I plan to mash some potatoes and spend more time with my old friend, Samantha, starting with the colorized season one episodes.

This post originally appeared in the Appalachian News-Express.

When I saw commercials for the first season of Abbott Elementary, a comedy on ABC, I chuckled. I didn’t, however, consider watching the show. After all, it’s on a network. With the exception of the CSI reboot, which I only watched for Gil Grissom, I haven’t tuned into a network show in eons.

But last week, three things reminded me of Abbott Elementary’s existence: I saw commercials for its upcoming second season; I heard that the show won some Emmys; and my streaming service emailed me, suggesting that I check out the show.

So, I watched an episode with low expectations. After all, it’s on a network. How good could it be?

Pretty expletive good.

Told in a mockumentary style and set in a fictional Philadelphia elementary school – hence the title – the show follows Janine Teagues, a young, idealistic second grade teacher, as she navigates the harsh realities of the classroom. No matter how many setbacks she encounters, Janine keeps trying, even when she gets electrocuted.

Janine strives to be as good as Barbara, a veteran teacher who has command of her classroom and who possesses a presence that inspires respect. Other characters include Jacob, a history teacher who is as idealistic and awkward as Janine; Melissa, a teacher who wears lots of animal prints; Gregory, a substitute teacher who has a crush on Janine; Mr. Johnson, the eccentric custodian; and Ava, the unprincipled principal.

Ava deserves a separate paragraph because she’s my favorite character. She’s terrible and I mean that in the best possible way. She makes fun of the other characters to their faces. She’s selfish, self-absorbed, and shallow. She’s horrible at her job. She knows nothing about the students or education. She passes her days by making personal videos and wasting school funds on ridiculous projects. Gregory justifiably despises her because he knows he should be the principal and because Ava constantly harasses him. But when she shows up on screen, I go ahead and start laughing because I know she’s going to deliver. This is due, in part, to the writing, but mostly to the actress. She is just so funny.

Of course, the entire cast is funny. I enjoy them separately or in pairs, but I prefer scenes that feature most of the ensemble. My favorite scene of the first season was the one when Gregory admits he doesn’t like a particular food that is enjoyed by most Americans. The look of shock on the other characters faces made me laugh and laugh. What’s more, as a picky eater who has been poked fun of her entire life for her food preferences, I felt Gregory’s pain when he finally makes the admission.

Abbott Elementary’s second season begins Wednesday, Sept. 21 on ABC. I hope the show doesn’t suffer a sophomore slump. Maybe it’s because of Janine’s optimism and the general goodness of the characters (well, except for Ava), but the show seems so wholesome. And not in a way that makes you want to vomit. Instead, in a way that makes you smile.

This post originally appeared in the Appalachian News-Express.

Last week NBC announced that it’s moving Days of Our Lives to the streaming service Peacock, ending the soap opera’s 57-year run on broadcast television. Days will switch to Peacock starting Sept. 12.

I have not faithfully watched Days in dozens of years, but my mom and oldest sister offer occasional updates on the goings on in Salem, the town in which the soap is set. So, I still have a general idea of what’s happening with characters like John and Marlena and families such as the Hortons and Bradys.

As I’ve mentioned previously, some of my first memories are of watching Days and other soaps. Whilst other kids learned certain life lessons from Mr. Rogers and Big Bird, I learned entirely different lessons from Stefano.

If Stefano helped me see the world for how it is, the woman he dubbed Queen of the Night, Dr. Marlena Evans, helped me develop self-awareness. Even as a kid, I appreciated how Marlena, a psychiatrist, would tilt her head and ask her patients (or friends and family members), “How did that make you feel?”

I wanted, no I needed, a Marlena in my life, someone to pop up when I was stressed or after I had experienced a slight and ask how the situation had made me feel. Then, I had an epiphany and realized I could ask myself how that – whatever that was – had made me feel. A therapist once congratulated me on my self-awareness and on being able to look at things from other people’s perspectives. We have Doc to thank for that.

Speaking of Doc, I will always consider the man who gave Marlena that nickname, Original Recipe Roman, one of my all-time favorite soap characters. That is why I loathed John Black for the longest time. He was an interloper. Sure, it wasn’t his fault. He thought he was Roman because of Stefano’s machinations … I’m not getting into all of that. There’s not enough time or space. I’ll just say that a few years ago when I was still tuning into the show every now and then, I finally warmed to John’s character and his portrayer’s, well, let’s call it acting. He really is a gift, and I was a dumb expletive for not accepting that gift sooner.

I don’t watch Days now so I’m not going to follow the show to Peacock. But I would embrace the opportunity to re-watch classic episodes of the show. I could finally make amends to John Black.

This post originally appeared in the Appalachian News-Express.